Para los muchachos lindos que raspan la pintura de mi casa alquilada

​No longer painted by number
My yard is a study
Red chips on pavement
Cacophony of voices scraping knocks

Pienso que alguien es casero

Jack is sawing the beanstalk
While the giant jumps on his bed
Crunching Cheetos

There's only so much plaster and wood between us
If you really want to come inside
Call first next time
You can use the front door
Current Mood:  scatch scratch pound pound